Chapter Five
“A Little Party Never Killed Nobody”
Goldie
A cold chill ran through my body once I recognized the voice that told me I was a beautiful artist. I turned around to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man from the blackout booth, but I was too late; he was lost amongst a sea of tourists watching a frozen man on a ladder.
I looked down at my watch and realized if I wanted to be ready to go before Carlos arrived, I better get packed up and moving. I got off my chair and started packing up all my supplies when I saw a black business card on my side table. At that instant, the night from a week ago when I received a visit from the mysterious man at Kitten’s Castle flashed through my mind. I received the same kind of card that night, but forgot to look at it since it was dark and I was consumed by getting home and getting ready for Rex.
I grabbed the card and took a closer look at it. It was thick paper with a matte finish, but the font was lifted and shiny. “Jett Girl” was spelled out under purple lettering and right under it was my name. I turned the card over and saw a phone number lining the bottom of the card…that was it. I scrunched my nose, trying to figure out what the hell a Jett Girl was, but was at a loss. So instead, I grabbed my phone and did a Google search, but came up short. I tried Googling Jett Girl, New Orleans, but nothing, only stupid pictures of jets came up.
Not wanting to waste any more time trying to figure out what the damn card meant, I headed back to my apartment with all my shit in tow. Thankfully, Jackson Square was in the heart of the French Quarter, along with my apartment, so I didn’t have to walk too far.
As I walked up the rickety stairs of my apartment that hovered over a souvenir shop, I heard moaning coming through the walls. Thinking it was our neighbor getting it on with another one of his girls, I walked into the apartment and was welcomed by Lyla pole dancing a giant black man’s dick.
“Shit,” I muttered as I covered my eyes, sent my apologies with a slight wave, and ran back to my bedroom. Mortification covered my cheeks as visuals of Lyla bouncing up and down on a massive cock ran through my head. I did have to give the girl credit, she was taking his pounding like a champ, or at least it looked like it.
Ignoring the horrendous cries of sex in the other room, I dug around for my apron and pulled out the card that I stuffed in there a week ago without giving it a second thought. I examined it and it was the exact same card as the one I received today. What was really confusing was that it said my name on it and it wasn’t written on…it was printed! Who the fuck does that?
I tossed the cards on my dresser and started getting ready for the night. I took a quick shower to wash off the sweat I accumulated while sitting out in the sun and made sure to wash my skin with a potent coconut scent, since I preferred to smell myself over the sweaty men in the club.
As I walked back to my room, I nearly lost my towel when I saw Lyla sitting on my bed, waiting for me.
“Sweet Jesus. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry about that,” Lyla said as she put lotion on her long brown legs. “You came home early today.”
“Clearly,” I remarked, as visions of Lyla riding the big black man flowed through my mind. “Sorry about…you know…earlier.”
“Not a problem,” she said, as if she always had people walking in on her.
“Looked like you were having a good time,” I said awkwardly.
“He has the biggest dick ever. I swear to God, I was ripped in half just now.”
“Yeah…I saw that he was packing. I would say that I was jealous, but the way you’re sitting has me thinking I should be grateful I didn’t just fuck a tree trunk.”
Lyla laughed and agreed, “Yeah, I’ll be hurting for a while. Probably not one of my best decisions. So, why are you home early?”
“Carlos wants to play pool and get some drinks before our shift. You in?”
“Hell yeah!” Lyla got up and went to my dresser. “Can I borrow some…?” She didn’t finish her sentence as she reached for the black cards I’d set down there, spun around and held them up so I could see. “Where the hell did you get these?”
“I, uh…they were dropped off, I guess.”
“Dropped off where?” Lyla was practically climbing down my throat looking for answers.
“At the Castle and while I was drawing today. What’s the big deal?”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” She looked down at them and then gasped. “They fucking have your name on them, Goldie.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
“You have no clue what these are, do you?”
“Does it look like I have a clue?”
“Jesus, Goldie!” She paced the room as she ran her hand through her hair. “Please tell me you called the number.”
I felt busted, as if I was supposed to do a chore that I never completed and was now getting harassed by my mother for it.
“No, I kind of forgot. I got the one the other night and then I just got the second one today. I haven’t had a chance to call.”
“You have to call, Goldie! Holy shit, I can’t believe you are going to be a Jett Girl.”
“What the hell is a Jett Girl?” I was a little irritated by now, feeling like a complete idiot not in the know. I’ve lived in New Orleans my entire life and never heard of a Jett Girl.
“You are fucking killing me.” Lyla made me sit down on my bed and she sat next to me while she played with the card between her fingers. “A Jett Girl is one of the most exclusive honors you can earn in the private club circuit. They all work at the Lafayette Club where businessmen go to do business and the girls are their entertainment. Each girl is handpicked by Jett Colby himself. If you become a Jett Girl, you are set for life.”
“What do you mean, set for life?”
“Meaning he takes care of everything…everything,” Lyla said, while wiggling her eyebrows.
“Well, it sounds kind of stupid. The guy is probably hideous and gets these girls to fall at his feet, suck his dick and send them on their way when he’s done; all for what?”
“You are so not getting this.”
“No, I’m not, so let’s move on. I have to get ready for tonight or I might be late for pool with Carlos and, Lord knows, I need a drink tonight.”
“You are an idiot; you know that? You complain every day about your shitty life and how you wished you could be out of this hell hole and when you’re presented with an amazing opportunity, you don’t capitalize on it. You only have yourself to blame for not getting out of here,” Lyla said, as she tossed the cards on my dresser and walked out of my room.
“I don’t even know what the fucking the card means,” I shouted after Lyla’s retreating body.
***
“Your shot, babe,” Carlos said, as he handed me the only pool cue in the joint. The one reason I loved The Dungeon was because absolutely no one came to it because it was terrifying from the outside. The barred up door and dungeon-like atmosphere gave off a nice tourist repellent. The locals knew better, though, and took advantage of the tourist-free bar when they got a chance.
“I suck at pool. I don’t know why I play against you. I lose every single time.”
“That’s why I love playing you. You’re a sure win.”
I stuck my tongue out at Carlos like a damn child and then lined up my shot. I couldn’t even remember what balls I was supposed to be shooting out so I just hoped for the best as I pulled back and shot at the white ball. The ball clanged around the table but never actually hit anything. Carlos burst out in laughter, but quickly shut up when I shoved the stick into his stomach.
“Shut up, shithead.”
“It’s all in love, babe.”